


Alex Skarsgard plays with Luke Evans over Skype

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Luke Evans and Alex Skarsgard [132]
Category: Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 11:26:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14104359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica





	Alex Skarsgard plays with Luke Evans over Skype

[cross-posted: Journalfen]  
[will be backdated; took place at the very end of November, 2013; Alex is training in Norway for the upcoming "Walking with the Wounded" trek]

It was a long day of training, and Alex is grateful that there's only an hour's time difference between Norway and Ireland; it means he can relax in a hot bath without worrying that he's taking up time he could be spending with Luke. Virtually, anyway. At least with these Skype dates, they can see each other, which is sure better than just the telephone, and tons better than just email or text.

His muscles are warm and limber and not too sore when he hops naked into bed, wrapping himself up in the thick blankets before he sets up his laptop, making sure the webcam is working. Then he dials his lover.

Luke's still dressed, having just finished dinner when the call comes through. He scoops up his laptop from the counter, carrying it with him into the bedroom, and throws himself on the bed, answering with a huge smile. "Hi there."

"Hey, _älskling_." God it feels so damn good just to _see_ Luke, to feel the warmth of his smile radiate across thousands of miles... "I was thinking about you so much today. I was stuck in a--" Abruptly, Alex's story halts, and his eyes narrow. "What the fuck is that?"

Luke laughs. He can't help it. "You like? I got it sword-fighting this week," he says with a soft sigh, gently touching his eye. "It's been turning some really glorious colours."

"No, I don't like it," Alex snaps, then immediately blows out a breath in chagrin. "Sorry," he says, forcing his tone of voice to something much milder. "Sorry. Are you okay?"

"Yup." Luke nods, still not _completely_ used to Alex's possessive protectiveness extending to any injuries he receives. "It hurt like hell at the time but it's not like they meant to do it."

Alex's deep frown isn't budging. "You got checked out by a doctor, right? They made sure of that right away?" What if Luke is hurt worse than anyone realizes? Can the studio be trusted to take care of him properly?

"Yes. They had me checked out and Dominic was here shooting his scenes so he stayed in my room for the night, _on the couch_ ," he quickly emphasizes, "and did the whole waking me every two hours just to make sure."

His jaw works, every fucking muscle tense, but Alex manages not to cuss the blue streak of words hurtling through his mind right now. "Does it hurt?" he eventually asks, figuring that should be a neutral enough question.

"It's a little sore still," Luke admits, touching it gingerly with the tips of his fingers. "But not too bad." He laughs. "I've had a lot worse."

"Not from me," Alex mutters, and drags a hand through his hair. Fuck, he _hates_ this, hates that his boy is hurt and he's not with him -- not that Alex has any special medical expertise, anyway. It's just the principle of the thing. "Do you need me to come visit?"

"Aren't you in training?" Luke asks, frowning a little at the offer if only because a part of him wants so badly - and selfishly - to accept just so he can see Alex in person.

"Yeah." Alex shrugs. "So fucking what? It's just the South Pole. I grew up in Sweden, no big deal." Yeah, right. The cold-weather training the teams are enduring right now might be all that keeps them alive if they end up in crisis during the race.

"Sir..." Luke bites at his bottom lip. "I would love to see you right now, because I miss you _so fucking much_ , but I'm not badly hurt, just bruised and sore, and I think it's far more important that you finish your training, Swedish or not."

Slumping back against the headboard, Alex considers. And really, there's not much to consider: he knows Luke is right. Finally, he just spits out the obvious. "I hate that you're hurt and I'm not there."

"I know," Luke says softly, wishing he was there with his husband, his sir, because honestly? Alex probably needs comforting more than he does. "I hate it too. I hate being apart from you even when I'm not hurt."

"Yeah, good point." Alex gives his lover a wry smile. "That's always true. How is the shoot going aside from the sword-fighting?"

Settling in against the headboard, his computer on his lap, Luke smiles. "It's fantastic. Ireland's so beautiful and everyone's amazing. We had two night shoots this week - one of which was fine but by the second one, I felt like I was dragging my ass. What about you? How's training going?" He's been trying not to worry, fairly successfully so far, but he knows he's going to _freak_ when it comes to the actual expedition.

"It's so fucking rad," Alex answers, his stiff expression melting into something much more like his usual smile. "My team-- they're absolutely amazing. I mean, every one of them is a wounded vet, and they've all endured different injuries, horrific shit, and they're some of the strongest people I've ever met," he says, his voice lightening with enthusiasm. "Like, to come back from burns - and fucking mortar shells and amputations and blindness - and then decide they're going to fucking hike to the South Pole just to raise awareness for veterans around the world... It blows me away. They've got such incredible mental strength."

"They'd have to, to make it through such horrible things," Luke says softly. "I wonder what the difference is? Were they always this strong, or did they only find out after? Because so many people would just shut down and stop living..."

"True... I don't know. That's a good question. Maybe I'll ask them," Alex says thoughtfully. Then he shoots his lover a look from beneath his eyelashes. "All right, now you say something. I just want to listen to your voice."

Luke laughs. "Um. I've been taking lots of pictures. I bought a decent camera, one with a real lens, and I've been walking around Belfast whenever I get a bit of time. The graffiti is really something else, and the murals, and I love the way people spill out of the pubs and just lie on their front lawns and I really like it here. I knew I'd like Ireland, but I wasn't sure how much I'd actually like Belfast."

"Yeah? Awesome." Alex grins. "Keep talking. You're getting me hard."

"Just by talking?" Luke looks doubtful. "Let's see."

Alex laughs out loud. "You don't believe me?" He shakes his head but then shifts his laptop away, checking to make sure it's stable before he kneels up. Another check, to ensure that the webcam is filming exactly what it should be, and Alex lets the blankets fall open around his hips. Revealing himself to be - well hell yes it's true - half-hard already and still swelling.

Luke groans, biting at his lower lip, his own cock jerking sharply at the sight of his sir's huge cock. "I wish you were here to fuck me," he whispers, whimpering softly.

"Mmm." Alex sits down so his face is in view again, and smirks faintly. "Just that?"

"I wish you were here for a whole bunch of things," Luke says, the distance, skyping, making him bolder than usual, "but yes, sir, right now, I wish I had your huge fucking cock plowing my hole open."

Alex groans softly, his boy's lewd words painting such a strong picture that it makes him tense up with lust. "What if I get you a dildo?" he asks, running his fingertips up and down his cock. "One that matches my size? You'll fuck yourself with it, hard. And you'll film it for me."

Luke whimpers softly, his hole fluttering, clenching tight at the thought. "Yes, please." His eyes locked on Alex's fingers, on how he's touching himself. "Can your boy fuck himself for you now?"

One corner of Alex's mouth kicks up. "What are you going to use?"

"What do you want your boy to use?" Luke asks, almost desperate for permission. "I can use my fingers, a brush, a shampoo bottle... whatever you want, sir."

Alex smirks. Goddamn, he loves his boy. "How big a shampoo bottle are we talking?"

Shit. Now he's in trouble. "Um. I've got one of those super-size ones but I think it's too big. The conditioner one's more like two inches across maybe," he says, trying to show Alex with his thumb and forefinger, the two not even close to meeting.

The smirk melts away, and Alex arches one eyebrow high. "You think _you_ get to decide whether something's too big?"

Luke drops his gaze in an instant, his cheeks colouring, heat flushing through him. "No, sir. Your boy's sorry, sir. Do you want him to get that one?"

"No," Alex answers, his grin flashing once more like quicksilver. "I was just teasing. If anything's going to tear your ass open, it'll be me." His gaze intensifies on his boy. "Get the hairbrush."

Another moan spills from Luke's lips and he murmurs, "Yes, sir," scrambling off the bed to grab the hairbrush from the washroom, the handle washed well with soap and water before he returns, his clothes shed, strewn at the side of the bed before he crawls back onto it. "Back, sir."

"Good. Now show me your cock."

Luke kneels up in front of the laptop, shifting it to a pillow and tilting the lid for a better angle. "How's that?" he asks, aware he's hard and straining, wet at the tip. A needy slutty boy if ever there was one. God.

" _Very_ good," Alex approves with a smile. "Have you ever tried to hurt yourself, just to see if you felt anything from it?" His eyes gleam. "Take the brush and smack your ass with it. Hard."

"Only my nipples," Luke answers, picking up the brush and using the back of it to strike himself on the ass as ordered, his cock jerking more from the wrongness of doing it than any real pain.

That image... God. Alex's mind damn near riots. "Again. Make it good."

Luke moans and does it again. Harder this time. Crying out as the wood actually marks this time, a red stripe rising up where he strikes.

Alex's mouth waters as he watches. God, Luke is hypnotic. "Is that the hardest you can manage?"

"No, sir," Luke whispers, repeating the movement, as hard as he can this time, his cock jerking, a string of precome spurting from it as another stripe, this one even redder, brighter, sharper, decorates his skin. He shudders, lip bloodied in his efforts to bite back his cries.

"Good boy," Alex breathes, entranced. He slowly strokes his cock as he watches, long slow pulls from root to tip. "Now slick up the handle."

Luke whimpers. "Yes, sir." Growling softly as the packet of lube puts up a fight but finally he has it open, the handle of the brush well-slicked. "Please, sir..."

"All the way in."

Shifting to make sure Alex has the best view possible, Luke reaches behind himself, the tip of the handle pressed against his already-lubed hole. It enters easily, he wants it so badly, not coming even close to what he's used to with his sir. It doesn't matter though. The very wrongness of it, of shoving his hairbrush up his ass for his sir because he needs something inside him, filling him, fucking him, has him _thisclose_ to coming already.

"Look at you," Alex murmurs, twisting his wrist and pulling harder at his cock. "You are fucking _filthy_ , you know that?" Fucking gorgeous, that's what Luke is. "Now fuck yourself with that handle, you shameless little whore. Because you know you're goddamn desperate for it."

Luke moans, dropping forward onto one hand as he fucks the brush into his ass with the other, each thrust striking over his prostate, his cock _streaming_ precome now, his sir's words, orders, rippling through him. "Oh, god, oh, fuck..." he cries out softly, trying to keep the noise down.

"Tell me what you need. Tell me _who_ ," Alex growls. And a mere instant later he blinks at himself in surprise. Who Luke needs? _Hell_. Yeah, he misses his boy, and the pain of their separation is acute.

"Oh god, sir, I need you, I need your cock in my ass, in my hole, fucking me, fucking me so hard," Luke moans, ramming the brush into his hole, his cock jerking with every thrust. "Hurting me."

"Good boy," Alex breathes, so fucking aroused that it's painful. "Now come!"

The reaction's so instantaneous, so completely overwhelming, that Luke howls, mindless of everything around him except Alex, his cock spurting wildly between his thighs as his body clamps down on the hard unyielding handle inside his ass.

_Christ!_ Luke is a wet dream on the screen. Alex groans and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, trying to control himself. But in mere seconds he comes hot, spilling over his fingers.

Luke whimpers, watching Alex through his orgasm, his hole fluttering almost painfully around the brush. "Please, sir. May I take it out?" he asks, panting softly.

"When you're ready," Alex whispers, still lost in aftershocks. Then he realizes how dumb that must sound, considering that Luke asked, and he nods. "Yeah."

Luke whimpers again as he eases the handle from his battered hole. "Thank you, sir." He sets the brush aside for later cleaning and pulls a pillow up under him, laying his head on it as he watches Alex, suddenly _exhausted_.

Alex frowns down at the now-soiled blanket. "Wish I'd planned that one better," he mutters, then figures it's too late to worry about, anyway. He wipes semen from his fingers and smiles at his boy. "You're so amazing."

"Thanks, but you're the amazing one," Luke says softly. "What you're doing... I'm so proud of you." Although right now, he'd give anything to have Alex here with him.

"Yeah?" Alex raises an eyebrow, unable to keep from smirking because otherwise he just might blush. "Think it'll get me laid?"

"Damn right it will," Luke says, managing a small smile to go along with the words. "When I see you next."

"All right, I'll count on it." Alex grins even as a sharp pang of regret flares through him. He's not working right now, he could be with Luke if he hadn't signed on to the Wounded Warriors project... _Useless_. "I love you, _älskling_. I'll call you tomorrow. No more injuries, okay?"

"Yes, sir," Luke nods, fatigue washing over him. But he forces another smile. "Love you too. Sleep well," he says, waiting until Alex has signed off to stretch out, blankets pulled up over him, head on the pillow, brush forgotten for now.  



End file.
